


#72

by I_Bought_A_Headache



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1980s, College, Government, Government Experimentation, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 08:38:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15815352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Bought_A_Headache/pseuds/I_Bought_A_Headache





	#72

Jay Warner sipped slowly from a red clay mug and watched the sun rise over the Idaho wilderness through the office window; big and bright against the blue morning sky. His wife, Emily, made the mug in pottery class and since then the handle has had to be glued in two places. He hated it almost as much as he hated their children. Sue and Markus Warner were the true, real life example of terror twins. Two blonde headed trouble making four year olds who drove Jay to nights of Brandy and copious amounts of Aspirin. He simply couldn't wait for them to start kindergarten. Really he couldn't wait for them to start college. He frowned for a moment and turned his mind away from the twins. He didn't need them ruining his only time away from them as well.   
The coffee in his mug was black and bitter. He liked it that way most, even if his secretary teased him endlessly. Sugar messed with his stomach anyway.  
It was a crisp Tuesday morning in the autumn of 1986. Jay smiled softly to himself and smoothed down the front of his grey-blue suit jacket. He clicked on the radio sitting left of a stack of paperwork. Desk life really is underated, he thought to himself while listening to the chorus of a Madonna song.   
His peace and not-so-quiet was interrupted a moment later by a knock on the dark, lacquered, wood door across the room. He sat his mug down and turned the black radio volume knob down to zero. "It's open." He said just loud enough for the person on the other side to hear. The knob clicked and a tall, stocky man in a tan suit strolled in. Jay recognized this man right away as John Carmichael. "Warner," his voice was gruff, "I need to speak with you."  
"Yes sir, what's the matter sir?" Jay said with pep he only saved for men in charge of him. Carmichael, Rodriguez, Herbert and the like. He stood from his chair and poured two glasses of thick amber coloured liquid as Carmichael began to speak.   
"Caldwell and Knotts are running a hush-hush experiment. Uh, something called #72. I don't know the details but I do know President Reagan isn't aware of what's going on." Carmichael began fidgeting with his tie. Jay reckoned he may know more than he let on. However, Jay constantly seemed to assume people were withholding information from him on everything.   
"What does this have to do with me, Mr. Carmichael?" Jay handed him a glass and Carmichael waved it away passively. Jay sat the glasses down on his desk and turned back to Carmichael as the man began speaking. His thin lips parted from the pained, pursed position they'd been in for a lengthy quiet moment. "Nothing." He shook his head and smiled sheepishly. "It's got nothing to do with you, Jay. Just… thought I'd let you know something is up." He turned on his heel suddenly, as if he'd been caught in something and wanted to leave immediately. He started walking to the door but stopped, "Oh and uh, Jay?" Carmichael looked back with a small, thin lipped smile.  
Jay looked at him, "Yes sir?"  
"If you ever offer anyone in this office a glass of Brandy at 7 am, kindly escort yourself outside. You'll be fired." His smile widened and he gave a laugh from deep in his hoarse throat. The sort of laugh where he would throw his head back and let his belly shake.  
Jay swallowed a forming lump in his throat without much ease. "Yes sir. Of course Mr. Carmichael."  
Carmichael left the room without so much as a word to follow up with.   
Jay sat back in his chair and debated on turning the radio back up. He also mulled over what Carmichael said. #72. He hadn't had the slightest idea what that might consist of, or what #1-#71 might've been. Jay hadn't know Caldwell and Knotts very well. He had spoken to Caldwell once over the phone and Knotts at a dinner party. Knotts was a tall, scrawny man with a face that greatly resembled that of a sewer rat. His dark brown, greasy hair covered his forehead and spotted it with pimples. He looked like an old man and a teenager both at once. His wire framed glasses stood on the bridge of his nose lopsided. 

Jay on the other hand was a shorter man with broad shoulders and the slightest dust of hair along his jaw. His short blonde hair, soft green eyes and little nose almost gave him a baby face. But it didn't matter to him. He rarely took his own looks into account.  
Jay figured Knotts was nothing to be afraid of.   
He'd never seen Caldwell in person, so he couldn't say the same for that man.  
A soft, squeaky voice came over the intercom suddenly, "Mr. Warner?"  
Jay pressed a button and spoke momentarily, "Yes, Lillian?" He grabbed his clay mug and waited for a response. Lillian Murray was Jay's secretary. She reminded him much of a television show girl. Quirky and slightly dim. Odd humour. If that made sense to anyone but him. Emily insisted that it didn't.  
"Andrew Smith is here to see you, sir." Lillian said, he heard the shuffling of paper in the background.   
"Send him in." Jay replied after an agonizing moment of contemplation. Andrew Smith was fat and annoying by anyone's standards.   
The door opened and Andrew walked in. Jay glanced at the clock. It was seventeen past seven.  
By that time next Tuesday, Jay Warner, his wife Emily and the terror twins would be dead.


End file.
